


On the First Day of Murdermas, My True Love Gave to Me

by Tiikeria



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, And Ryan just being adorable really, And Ryan's Best Christmas Ever, Christmas Fluff, Fake AH Crew, Female Jack, M/M, Multi, Other, Ryan's First Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:17:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9001372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiikeria/pseuds/Tiikeria
Summary: Ryan had seen his fair share of things: the was the Vagabond, the FIB’s most wanted criminal, a man feared from coast to coast for his merciless and sometimes gruesome ways. He had killed and he had tortured, often in the bloodiest and goriest of methods. 
But this was new. This, he had only seen in photos and on TV and in video games. He knew all about it, of course, he had just never experienced it in person. But, as he stared out at the outdoor space of the Penthouse belonging to the Fake AH Crew, where The Lads were running around and playing and laughing, there was a first time for everything, he supposed.
It was snowing.





	

Ryan had seen his fair share of things: the was the Vagabond, the FIB’s most wanted criminal, a man feared from coast to coast for his merciless and sometimes gruesome ways. He had killed and he had tortured, often in the bloodiest and goriest of methods. 

But this was new. This, he had only seen in photos and on TV and in video games. He knew all about it, of course, he had just never experienced it in person. But, as he stared out at the outdoor space of the Penthouse belonging to the Fake AH Crew, where The Lads were running around and playing and laughing, there was a first time for everything, he supposed.

It was snowing.

It was the morning of Christmas Eve and the city had awoken to find not a dusting, or just an inch, but _four inches_ of the white stuff blanketing the streets. And, of course, since Los Santos was woefully unprepared for winter weather like this, the whole city had essentially shut down. Not that it wouldn’t have shut down early anyway. People were calling it a Christmas miracle; the first white Christmas in decades.

The jury was still out on that one, Ryan decided, as he warily looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, sipping a morning Diet Coke. It looked cold. And Ryan hated being cold. He was from Georgia, it didn’t get below freezing often, and Los Santos had been quite similar until now. 

“Ryan!” Gavin had spotted him, he and Jeremy excitedly waving him outside, “Come out and help us beat Michael and Ray in a snowball fight, Ryan!”

“No fair, it can’t be three against two, you assholes!” Michael said, or rather shouted, from his and Ray’s rather sad little snow fort. Not that Gavin and Jeremy’s was much better.

“If Ryan wants to join his boyfriends, I’ll help you guys,” Jack had appeared by Ryan’s side, and the offer seemed to placate Michael. And, fuck, Gavin was giving him that look and he taught it to Jeremy and it was _not fair._

With a grumble about the cold, he went to pull on his boots and his heaviest coat, shoving a beanie on his head and gloves on his hands. By the time he got outside, Jack was already greatly improving the enemy’s fort, and Geoff had bundled up to “referee” apparently. 

He was surprised by how _crunchy_ the snow was under his boot; didn’t they always refer to this stuff as powder? Powder wasn’t fucking crunchy. Or that sticky for that matter; it was caked to his boots and he had only taken a few steps. He called bullshit on this. 

Resigned, he joined Gavin and Jeremy behind their little wall, watching them pack the snow into tight balls, and after a moment, scooped up snow to clumsily make some of his own. Though, his were decidedly not balls. Eggs, maybe. Lumps? Why was this so hard? _Children_ did this. Gavin was giggling by his side, looking at his failed attempts at making decent snowballs; would it be considered treason if he stuffed one down Gavin’s shirt?

“Ryan,” Jeremy laughed, in that playfully disappointed way he did, “What are those, man?”

Ryan huffed, sitting back on his haunches and crossing his arms, his hands caked in the sticky precipitation, “It’s harder than it looks, okay?”

“Ryan, have you never made a snowball, Ryan?” Gavin meant it as a joke, but his eyes widened when Ryan shook his head, still sulking, “Wait, really? You’ve _never_ made a snowball?”

That seemed to get everyone’s attention and suddenly he had six people staring at him, apparently appalled that he had never made a snowball before in his life, “Gavin, I’ve never even _seen_ snow in person until today. So, no, I’ve never made a snowball.”

“Aww!” Geoff laughed suddenly, Ryan turning his unimpressed gaze on him, “It’s Ryan’s first snow day! Our baby’s growing up so fast, Jack!”

“Well now,” Gavin stated, rather matter-of-factly, “We have to win, Jeremy. Ryan’s snow honor is at stake.”

“ _Snow honor?_ “

But Jeremy was just nodding, as if that was a real thing that was in danger of being destroyed if they lost the snow throwing competition. Ryan really didn’t understand. 

And then the fight began, and he discovered the seriousness of Snowball Wars. Turns out, his aim was just as spot-on with a snowball as it was with a gun. Or a knife. So, they devised a fool-proof plan: Gavin was their ammo maker, Ryan was their primary weapon, and Jeremy would follow up once Ryan ducked back down. It led to a permanent barrage of snowballs being hurled at the opposing trio, who were not taking the punishment lightly and eagerly returning fire just as much. Geoff was just sitting back, laughing as the snowballs rained down, the occasional one “accidentally” hitting him. 

But Ryan wasn’t content to just sit behind a snow wall and throw snowballs. No, he had to do something stupid and crazy and dramatic; Gavin was really rubbing off on him. He told Gavin and Jeremy to cover him; he was going to rob the enemy of their supplies. Of course, they all knew it was a suicide mission, but, if it meant winning the war, it was all they could do. His boyfriends bid him a “tearful” last goodbye before he darted out from behind the wall, Jeremy and Gavin letting loose a barrage of snowballs, distracting their enemy until Ryan managed to slide behind their wall, startling Jack and alerting Michael and Ray to his presence. 

With a grin, he scooped up a bunch of their snowballs and ran for it, yelling “HEIST” as he did, Geoff howling in the deck chair nearby as Ryan tried to return with his prizes. But it wasn’t meant to be, as he felt multiple snowballs hit him square in the back. He went down with dramatic flair, making choking noises as he did, pretending to “die” in the no man’s land between the forts. He heard the playful outrage from Gavin and Jeremy, then a battle cry of “FOR RYAN” before they charged at the other team, arms full of snowballs, firing non-stop, but ultimately falling by his side in the snow, also playing dead.

That didn’t stop them from becoming snow zombies and dumping as much snow as possible on the cheering winners. Then on Geoff, too, for good measure, Geoff bitching and hopping around to keep himself warm as he threatened to fire all of them. A hollow threat, they knew.

Gavin wasn’t about to let Ryan go inside to where it was warm. Oh no, not yet. Not until Ryan had experienced the snow properly, those words bringing back his wariness. Especially when Gavin grabbed him and pulled him back down into the snow, flopping onto his back and grinning, motioning for Ryan to do the same.

“Why?” he questioned, eyes narrowed in suspicion, waiting to be buried in the snow, or something. They did that with sand, once, at the beach. He was finding sand in places there shouldn’t have been sand for _weeks._

But Gavin only laughed, “I wanna show you how to make a snow angel, Ryan!”

“A _what?_ “

“A snow angel, you donut, now lay back. And put your arms out all the way,” Ryan did what he was told, surprised when Jeremy flopped down on his other side, grinning brightly, and assuming the same position, “Now, Ryan, you move your arms up and down in the snow, like this, yeah? And you move your legs out, then back in.”

He felt stupid, honestly, doing this in the snow, but apparently it was all part of his introduction into snow day activities, and he really had no choice. Not when Gavin was involved, and Gavin could easily use the look Geoff referred to as the “look from Hell” that could get even the most hardened of criminals to bend to his every whim. That look was evil. And now Jeremy knew it, too, so, really, Ryan was doomed no matter what.

It seemed like after a few moments of this, Gavin was content, and managed to get a completely fed up Michael to pull him to his feet, Ryan and Jeremy next to rise. And, looking down at the imprint, he could kinda see where the term ‘snow angel’ came from. It was cute, the three right next to each other, Gavin’s lanky one next to Ryan’s wider one next to Jeremy’s shorter one. 

Then Michael decided that Gavin’s needed a nose the size of its face, much to Gavin’s chagrin, and Jeremy gave his sunglasses. Ryan paused for a second before using his finger to make the head of his look like a skull, pleased with himself.

Maybe this snow stuff wasn’t so bad.

“Come here and help us make a snowman, bitches,” Geoff was apparently attempting to roll a giant snowball, but failing quite spectacularly, Jack just shaking her head and taking over, her ball much nicer than Geoff’s. Which, when pointed out by Ray, turned into a competition on who could insult Geoff’s balls the best. Which ended up with Gavin squealing with snow down the front of his shirt.

Ryan was put in charge of finding enough pebbles to be the eyes and mouth and buttons on the snowman, grinning as he took a couple small branches from one of their hedges to make their snowman a mustache. Gavin has reappeared from inside carrying an old top hat from one of their more ridiculous heists and a scarf that no one could even remember where it came from or whose it was. Michael was the one that found a lens from a prop pair of round glasses and fashioned a monocle for him, everyone laughing at the absurdity of their new snow friend.

“I name him Sir Frosty Snowington the Third,” Ryan proclaimed as they all stepped back to admire their handiwork in the fading sunlight turning the snow a light orange color. Gavin laughed and Jeremy kissed his pink cheeks, as Geoff proceeded to give Sir Snowington the most posh accent he could muster.

Night had fully fallen by the time Ryan had completely warmed up, all of them settled in dry clothes in the living room, fire going, all of them cradling warm drinks in their hands, some alcoholic, some not. The lights were dimmed, the room mostly lit by the fire and the lights on the massive Christmas tree in the corner they had decorated a few days after Thanksgiving.

Ryan had stretched out on the couch, but quickly was joined by Gavin claiming the spot between his legs, cuddling happily into Ryan’s chest. Jeremy had pouted for a second before Ryan made room for him, too, now fully trapped under two very cuddly, and warm, boyfriends, his arms wrapped around them happily. This was his first real Christmas with the crew, and his first with his boys, and although he wasn’t expecting much in the morning, if anything, he definitely spoiled his family with gifts.

He listened quietly to the conversation around him, occasionally feeling Gavin or Jeremy join in or laugh, just happy to be there and be included in festivities he never really participated in when he was a child. He hadn’t had the best home life when he was young, and Christmas had often been just another day to his biological family; if he was lucky, he might have gotten one or two gifts, but nothing like what some of the kids at school got. No, his parents had been more worried about buying alcohol or drugs to sate their habits.

So, of course, when the conversation turned to Christmas Eve traditions from their childhoods, Ryan couldn’t really add anything. Geoff talked about getting special pajamas when he was a kid on Christmas Eve, ones he had to wear that night. Michael joked about his grandparents always giving them a stocking of an apple, an orange and some raisins, Jeremy excitedly agreeing that it had been a thing in his family, too. Jack recalled Christmas Eves spent at church, which Gavin piped up had been his family’s tradition, too. Jeremy added in that his family would always have chili and ham sandwiches as Christmas Eve dinner. 

And Ryan listened, a small pang of sadness that he couldn’t recall any happy memories to offer. Of course, that was the moment Gavin looked up at Ryan and asked, “What about you, love? You’ve been really quiet. What did your family do on Christmas Eve?”

And Ryan could only answer, with a soft, sad smile, “Nothing. We didn’t really do anything special. It was just another day for them to get drunk or high or both.”

The entire crew knew that Ryan hadn’t had the greatest of childhoods, but, it seemed, sometimes that knowing and actually hearing about it were two different things, that it was a fact they knew in the back of their minds, but didn’t seem real until he reminded them though anecdotes and quiet mentions.

And he could see the moment, in the quiet after his answer, that they decided that they didn’t like his answer and were going to fix it in their own way.

“Well, in that case, I propose we start a new fucking tradition. Here and now,” Geoff said, moving towards the tree and digging out six boxes from under its branches, “Here, assholes, I was going to give these to you tonight anyway, and this seems like the perfect moment.”

Three of the boxes came sailing Ryan’s way, luckily none of them actually hitting him, mostly because of his very convenient meat shields still leaning against him. At least until they got their wrapped gifts, then they were scrambling up in excitement, Jeremy offering one of the boxes to Ryan. He took it, examining it in almost childlike wonder. He would never tire of getting gifts; he had the same reaction earlier in the month when the crew had presented him with birthday presents and a chocolate cake shaped like a skull that he loved. 

While The Lads tore into theirs and Jack opened hers, Ryan took his time, quietly laughing at the tag — “To: That Creepy Motherfucker” — and gingerly pulling at the tape holding the paper together. He didn’t know why he didn’t just tear it open like Gavin and Jeremy had done; maybe he subconsciously wanted to savor the feeling of opening a gift. Lord knows he hadn’t had much experience.

Wrapping paper removed in one piece, he turned his attention to the box, oblivious to everyone else watching him, the last one to get his box open. He had to laugh when he finally got it open and discovered what it was. Pajamas. Pajamas with a Christmassy skeleton he vaguely recognized from a movie he had never seen.

“Alright, you all have to wear those tonight,” Geoff stated, his crew making motions of agreement, “Or else Santa might not come. And that would fucking suck. Now go get changed, then we’ll marathon some movies or something.”

He was pulled from his seat by his giddy boyfriends, Michael and Ray heading for their own rooms. Ryan had no problems pulling on the warm ensemble, pleased that Geoff seemed to remember his dislike of the cold, before being dragged back into the living room and their spot being reclaimed, his boyfriends settling quite happily against him again.

This was a tradition he could get used to, honestly. 

At least, until he was shaken awake at 7am the next morning by Gavin, Jeremy laughing on Ryan’s other side.

“Ryan!” Gavin whined when Ryan rolled over and shoved his head under the pillow, “Ryan! Get up, you lazy bastard! It’s Christmas!”

“Five more minutes,” Ryan grumbled, hiding from the pout he was sure Gavin was giving him, “Or hours. Five more hours sounds good.”

“No!” Gavin said, a laugh under his annoyance alerting him that it was all for show, “Get up now!”

Ryan peeked out at Gavin sleepily, then glanced at Jeremy, who looked just as ready to bolt from the room, and came up with a rather wonderful idea if he did say so himself, “Gavin, come here.”

Gavin’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, “Why?”

Ryan feigned innocence, “I just want my morning kiss. Please?”

Gavin smiled, shaking his head in faux exasperation, but taking the bait Ryan offered and leaned down to kiss him good morning. And upon receiving his kiss, Ryan wrapped one strong arm around Gavin’s thin body, pulling him down, his other arm trapping Jeremy just as effectively.

“Oh _no_ ,” Jeremy half-cried, half-laughed, “Gavin, we’re trapped!”

Gavin squirmed valiantly, trying to get loose from the forced cuddling session Ryan had initiated, but finally slumped, pouting, “You’re awful, Ryan.”

“I wanna cuddle,” Ryan grinned, his eyes closed again, still laying on his stomach. Gavin poked him in the side.

“ _Awful._ “

“Nah,” Ryan cracked open one eye, kissing Gavin on the nose, the pout ineffective to Ryan’s resolve, “I’m lovely. You tell me all the time.”

“I changed my mind.”

Jeremy was quietly laughing on Ryan’s other side, having given up a lot quicker than Gavin had, snuggled contentedly against him, “Come on, Ryan, let’s go see what Santa brought us.”

Ryan pretended to think about it for a second before yawning and lifting his arm, freeing Gavin, who instantly sprang from the bed, bouncing on his heels, “Fine, let’s go se how much coal is under the tree.”

It seems as though while Ryan was trying to keep Gavin and Jeremy in bed, Michael and Ray had taken it upon themselves to wake Geoff and Jack, Geoff sluggishly shuffling down the hallway, glaring at anyone under the age of 35. Jack was in decidedly happier spirits, giving them a cheery “Merry Christmas!” 

The Lads were passing out presents before the other three even made it in the living room. 

Ryan curled up on the couch, smiling softly as he watched them sort them into piles, designating where everyone was to sit, so their pile could be placed accordingly. He gave a thankful smile to Jack when she handed him a mug of cocoa, huddling around its warmth. 

Ryan hadn’t noticed the pile growing by his side, not expecting to even have one, so when everyone started tearing into their gifts, Ryan simply sipped his drink and watched with a small, content smile.

“Dude, are you gonna open yours, or are you gonna fall back asleep on us?” Michael joked, the first to notice that Ryan hadn’t made a move for his own gifts.

Ryan sat up a bit straighter, finally taking note of the colorful stack beside him, staring at it as if he fully expected to be hallucinating, “Wait, these are _mine_?”

“No, they’re the couch’s,” Ray deadpanned, “Gotta show love to the couch.”

“ _All_ of them?” Ryan was still questioning the pile, pretty sure it had to be a fluke. There were more there than he had ever gotten in his life, combined. His gaze moved from the gifts to Gavin as he placed a gentle hand on Ryan’s leg from his seat on the floor. It was a rare moment of sweet sincerity from Gavin.

“They’re all yours, Ry. Every one of them.”

Well, that changed things.

He wasn’t going to admit that he was quite excited now, no matter what was in the boxes, simply because they were _gifts_. And they were for _him_. Hell, it could be a bunch of socks, and he would be thrilled. 

He didn’t think he had to admit it, anyway. They knew.

Ryan paid them to mind as he started to work on the gifts, still so careful with the paper, savoring the feeling with childlike wonder. He took the time to read every tag, to thank every gifted, even if it was a joke gift — Ray was specifically guilty of this, with a case of Diet Coke. 

Slowly, his pile of opened gifts grew. A new set of throwing knives from Michael, a new scope for his favorite assault rifle from Jack, a card for a new paint job for one of his vehicles from Geoff, and even some knick-knacks and treats from the B-Team. Hell, even Burnie and Ashley had sent him a gift. And Meg, too, giving some expensive facepaints he had been thinking about trying.

He made a note to write thank you cards to the people who weren’t there. He may be a criminal, but he was a criminal with _manners_ , damnit.

One was left, and everyone else was finished by now, watching Ryan with fond amusement. This last one, marked a joint gift between his boyfriends, he specifically saved. The box was relatively heavy, and half-assed wrapped, Gavin and Jeremy looking sheepish as he pointed it out with a laugh.

But, finally, he got it open. And raised an eyebrow at the new jacket in the box, looking identical to his current one, but he suspected there was something more to it.

He was right.

“We had Griffon make some alterations to it,” Gavin said proudly as Ryan lifted it, the jacket more weighted, but not too much so, “It has a kevlar lining, since you refuse to wear a vest.”

“It ruins my aesthetic,” Ryan teased, hands running over the jacket appreciatively. After a moment, he unzipped it and pulled it on, pleased to note that the kevlar really didn’t make it that much heavier or even bulkier. He had to send his complements to Griffon. She was a miracle worker.

“It also has some more pockets on the inside for ammo or bombs or knives,” Jeremy explained as Ryan discovered a pocket in question, eyes lighting up at all the possibilities, “There’s also a couple pockets in the arms for blades, too, so you can be a badass.”

“See! Jeremy understands my aesthetic!” Ryan grinned, Gavin playfully sticking out his tongue.

“Watching Ryan open presents is literally the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, holy shit,” Geoff laughed, sipping his, most likely spiked, coffee, “And I thought The Lads were gonna be the most childlike. Turns out it was Ryan.”

“Shut up, Geoff,” he said, no malice in his voice and smile on his face, “I have to make up for lost time.”

Gavin and Jeremy emerged from their piles of gifts and destroyed wrapping paper to join him on the couch, offering kisses and affection, which Ryan happily accepted. 

“Merry Christmas, Ryan,” Jeremy murmured against his lips, Gavin echoing the sentiment as well.

Ryan managed to acquire two bows while they were distracted, plopping them on top of Gavin and Jeremy’s heads, giving them a pleased, mischievous grin.

“Ryan, what are you up to, you donut?” Gavin giggled, the green bow wiggling in his hair.

“Well, I was hoping I could have two more presents to unwrap,” Ryan was proud of himself for the idea, though he saw Geoff pull a face out of the corner of his eye.

“Not in here, you’re not. I do _not_ need to see that shit. Or hear it. Or _think_ about it,” and there was the protest he saw coming.

“Well, shit,” Jeremy laughed, “There went our last present. We were gonna invite you guys in for a Christmas orgy.”

Geoff dramatically retched in mock disgust, Jack rubbing his back in amused support. Michael was laughing at Geoff’s reaction and, of course, Ray was grinning with a playfully suggestive look.

“Well, more for me, then,” Ryan shrugged, expression saying _your loss_. 

“You can have them.”

The rest of Christmas Day was spent playing with their new toys, eating the amazing dinner Geoff prepared, and curling up in the living room to watch more movies, Gavin and Jeremy curling happily against Ryan’s larger body, the bows still on top of their heads. Ryan pressed kisses to their foreheads, his arms gripping just a bit tighter.

If Christmas was always going to be like this, he couldn’t wait for next year.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Early Kwanzaa, and Happy Holidays to everyone out there who may not celebrate a specific winter holiday! I hope the end of your 2016 is better than the rest, and I wish everyone the best for 2017! 
> 
> Love you, guys! <3


End file.
